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In the Deep of the Snow 










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The lirsl met the lull bweep of his axe 






















Copyright, 1906, 

By The Ridgway Co. 

Copyright, 1907, 

By Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. 


LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 


JUN 12 1907 



COPY A. * 


THK UNIVEESITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 



Illustrations 


PAGE 

The first met the full sweep of his axe Frontispiece 

She was inditing an epistle to “ Sandy Claus” 26 

Coaxing the horse to drink again .... 36 

At the Settlement where anything from a baby’s 
rattle to a bag of fertilizer could be purchased 56 









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In the Deep of the Snow 


I 

Around the Uttle log cabin in 
the clearing the snow lay nearly 
four feet deep. It loaded the roof. 
It buried the low, broad, log barn 
almost to the eaves. It whitely 
fenced in the trodden, chip-littered, 
straw-strewn space of the yard, 
which lay between the barn and 
the cabin. It heaped itself fan¬ 
tastically, in mounds and domes 
and pillars, over the stumps that 
dotted the raw, young clearing. 
It clung densely on the drooping 
branches of the fir and spruce and 
hemlock. It mantled in a kind of 





IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


breathless, expectant silence tKe 
solitude of the wilderness world. 

Dave Patton, pushing down the 
blankets and the many-colored 
patchwork quilt, lifted himself on 
one elbow, and looked at the pale 
face of his young wife. She was 
sleeping. He slipped noiselessly 
out of the bunk, lightly pulled up 
the coverings again, and hurriedly 
drew on two pairs of heavy, home- 
knit socks of rough wool. The 
cabin was filled with the gray light 
of earliest dawn, and with a biting 
cold that made the woodsman’s 
hardy fingers ache. Stepping softly 
as a cat over the rough plank floor, 
he made haste to pile the cooking- 
stove with birch-bark, kindling, and 
split sticks of dry, hard wood. At 
the touch of the match the birch- 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

OO0GOOeX>3OQeX>3CX30OGC3G0GC3CK3OC3OOQC3C3OGOGGO0C3OQQO 

bark caught and curled with a crisp 
crackling, and with a roar in the 
strong draft the cunningly piled 
mass burst into blaze. Dave Pat¬ 
ton straightened, and his gray eyes 
turned to a little, low bunk with 
high sides in the further corner of 
the cabin. 

Peering over the edge of the 
bunk with big, eager blue eyes was 
a round little face framed in a 
tousled mop of yellow hair. A 
red glare from the open draft of the 
stove caught the child’s face. The 
moment she saw her father looking 
at her she started to climb out of 
the bunk ; but Dave was Instantly at 
her side, kissing her, and tucking 
her down again into the blankets. 

“You mustn’t git out o’ bed, 
sweetie,” he whispered, “till the 
[i3J 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

OGOI03GGGC3GGOCX3QQQOOOQOOOGGOOOQGGOGOOOOOOOQQC30 

house gits warmed up a bit. An’ 
don’t wake mother jet.” 

The child’s eyes danced with 
eagerness, but she restrained her 
voice as she replied. 

“I thought mebbe ’twas Ghrist- 
mis, popsie! ” she whispered, clutch¬ 
ing his fingers. “ ’T first I thought 
mebbe you was Sandy Glaus, pop¬ 
sie. Oh, I wisht Ghristmis ’Id 
hurry up ! ” 

A look of pain passed over Dave 
Patton’s face. 

‘ ‘ Ghristmas won’t be along fer 
’most a week yit, sweetie I ” he an¬ 
swered, in the soft undertone that 
took heed of his wife’s slumbers. 
“An’ anyways, how do you s’pose 
Sandy Glaus is goin’ to find his way, 
’way out into these great woods, 
through all this snow?” 

[i4] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

“Oh, popsie!'' cried the child 
excitedly. Then, remembering, she 
lowered her voice again to a whisper. 
‘ ‘ Don’t you know Sandy Claus kin 
go anywheres ? Snow, an’ cold, 
an’ the—the — big black woods — 
they don’t bother him one little, 
teenty mite. He knows where to 
find me out here, jest ’s easy’s in 
at the Settlements, popsie! ” 

The mother stirred in her bunk, 
wakened by the little one’s voice. 
She sat up, shivering, and pulled 
a red shawl about her shoulders. 
Her eyes sought Dave’s significantly 
and sympathetically. 

“ Mother’s girl must try an’ not 
think so much about Sandy Claus,” 
she pleaded. “I don’t want her 
to go an’ be disappointed. Sandy 
Claus lives in at the Settlements, 
[i5] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

eX30QGC3000GOGe>GOOCK3C-OOGOOe»QGGOGOGOGQOGQC3GQQGO 

an’ you know right well, girlie, he 
couldn’t git ’way out here, Christ¬ 
mas eve, without neglecting all the 
little boys an’ girls at the Settle¬ 
ments . You would n’t want them all 
disappointed, just so’s he could 
come to our little girl ’way off here 
in the woods, what’s got her father 
an’ mother anyways! ” 

The child sat up straight in her 
bunk, her eyes grew very wide and 
filled with tears, and her lips quiv¬ 
ered. This was the first really 
effective blow that her faith in 
Christmas and in Santa Claus had 
ever received. But Instantly her 
faith recovered itself. The eager 
light returned to her face, and she 
shook her yellow head obstinately. 

“ He won’t have to ’lect the chil- 
dern in the Settlements, will he, 

[i6] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


popsie ?'' she cried, And without 
waiting for an answer, she went on: 

‘ ‘ He kin be everywheres to oncet, 
Sandy Claus can. He's so good 
an' kind he won't forget one of the 
little boys an’ girls in the Settle¬ 
ments, nor me, out here in the 
woods. Oh, mumsie, I wisht it 
was to-night was Christmis eve 1 " 
And in her happy anticipation she 
bounced up and down in the bunk, 
a figure of fairy joy in her blue 
flannel nightgown. 

Dave turned away with a heavy 
heart, and jammed more wood into 
the stove. Then, pulling on his 
thick cowhide “ larrigans," coat, 
and woollen mittens, he went out 
to fodder the cattle. With that 
joyous roar of fresh flame in the 
stove the cabin was already warm- 

[17] 


a 




IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


ing up, but outside the door, which 
Dave closed quickly behind him, 
the cold had a kind of still savagery, 
edged and instant like a knife. To 
a strong man, however, it was tonic 
and honest, challenging to resist¬ 
ance. In spite of his sad preoccu¬ 
pation, Dave responded to the cold 
air instinctively, pausing outside 
the door to fill his deep lungs and 
to glance at the thrilling mystery 
of the sunrise before him. 

The cabin stood at the top of the 
clearing, against a background of 
dense spruce forest, which shel¬ 
tered it on the north and northeast. 
Across the yard, on the western 
side of the cahin, the log barn and 
the “ lean-to” thrust up their laden 
roofs from the surrounding snow. 
In front, the cleared ground sloped 
[i8J 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


away gently to the woods below, a 
snow-swathed, mystically glimmer¬ 
ing expanse, its surface tumbled 
by the upthrust of the muffled 
stumps. From the eastern corner 
of the clearing, directly opposite 
the doorway before which Dave was 
standing, the Settlements trail led 
straight away, a lane of miraculous 
glory, into the very focus of the 
sunrise. 

For miles upon miles the slow 
slope of the wilderness was toward 
the east, so that the trail was 
like an open gate into the great 
space of earth and sky. The sky, 
from the eastern horizon to the 
zenith — and that was all that Dave 
Patton had eyes for—was filled 
with a celestial rabble of rose-pink 
vapors, thin aerial wisps of almost 

[19] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


unimaginable color. Except the 
horizon I The horizon, just where 
the magic portals of the trail re¬ 
vealed it, was an unfathomable 
radiance of intense, transparent, 
orange-crimson flame, so thrilling 
in its strangeness that Dave seemed 
to feel his spirit striving to draw 
it in as his lungs were draw¬ 
ing in the vital air. From that 
fount of living light rushed innu¬ 
merable streams of thin color, 
making threads and stains and 
patches of mystical red among the 
tops of the lower forest, and dye¬ 
ing the snowy surface of the clear¬ 
ing with the tints of mother-of-pearl 
and opal. Dave turned his head 
to glance at the cabin, the barn, 
and the woods behind them. All 
were bathed in that transfiofuriner 

o O 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


rush of glory. The beauty of it 
gave him a curious pang, which 
turned instantly, by some associa¬ 
tion too obscure for him to trace, 
into an ache of grief at the disap¬ 
pointment that was hanging over 
the little one’s gaily trusting heart. 
The fairylike quality of the scene be¬ 
fore him made him think, by a min¬ 
gling of sympathy and far-off, dim 
remembrance, of the fairy glamour 
and unreal radiance of beauty that 
Christmas tree and Christmas toys 
stood for in the child’s bright antici¬ 
pations. He reminded himself of 
the glittering delights with which, 
during the past three Christmases, 
Lidey’s kinsfolk in the Settlement 
had lovingly surrounded her. Now 
he, her father, could do nothing to 
make her Christmas different from 
[ 21 ] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

C£3OCX30000GG000OG00QQOC»0O00C30C3GGOGGOG000000C30 

all these other days in whose shut- 
in monotony she was wearying. 
Hope, now, and excited wonder, 
were giving the little one new life. 
Dave Patton cringed within at the 
thought of the awakening, the dis¬ 
illusionment, the desolation of sor¬ 
row that would come to the baby 
heart with the dawn of Christmas. 
He was overwhelmed with self- 
reproach, because he had not real¬ 
ized all this in time to make 
provision, before the deep snow 
had blocked the trail to the Settle¬ 
ment. Now, what could he do? 

Heavily Dave strode across the 
yard to the door of the barn. At 
the sound of his feet crunching the 
trodden and brittle snow, there 
came low mooings of eagerness 
from the expectant cattle in the 
[ 2 .] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


barn. As he lifted the massive 
wooden latch and opened the door, 
the horse whinnied to him from 
the innermost stall, there was a wel¬ 
coming shuffle of hoofs, and a com¬ 
fortable warmth puffed steamily out 
in his face. From the horse’s stall, 
from the stanchions of the cattle, 
big soft eyes all turned to him. As 
he bundled the scented hay into the 
mangers, and listened to the con¬ 
tented snortings and puffings as 
soft muzzles tossed the fodder, he 
thought how happy these creatures 
were in their warm security. He 
thought how happy he was, and his 
wife, reunited to him after three 
years of forced and almost continu¬ 
ous separation. For him, and for 
the young wife, now recovering 
health in the tonic air of the spruce 
[ 23 ] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


land after years of invalidism, this 
had promised to be a Christmas of 
unalloyed gladness. To one only, 
to the little one whose happiness 
was his continual thought, the day 
would be dark with the shattering 
of cherished hopes. The more he 
thought of it, the more he felt that 
it was not to be borne. Faint but 
piteous memories from his own 
childhood stirred in his brain, and 
he realized how irremediable, how 
final and desperate, seem a child’s 
small sorrows. A sudden resolve 
took hold upon him. This bitter¬ 
ness, at least, his little one should 
not know. He jammed the pitch- 
fork energetically back into the 
mow, and left the barn with the 
quick step of an assured purpose. 

Three years before this, Dave 

[^ 4 ] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


Patton, after a series of misfortunes 
in the Settlement, which had re¬ 
duced him to sharp poverty, had 
been forced to leave his wife and 
three-year-old baby with her own 
people, while he betook himself 
into the remotest wilderness to carve 
out a new home for them on a tract 
of forest land which was all that re¬ 
mained of his possessions. The 
land was fertile and carried good 
timber ; and he had begun to pros¬ 
per. But his wife’s ill health had 
long made it impossible for her to 
face the hardships and risks of a 
pioneer’s life two days’ journey from 
the nearest civilization. Not till the 
preceding spring had Dave dared to 
bring his family out to the wilderness 
home that he had so long been mak¬ 
ing ready for them. Then, however, 
[ 25 ] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

C3QOOGOOOOOOO-3GOOGC30GOC30GOOQGeX300£X3QOOGGGGOGOO 

it had proved a success. In that 
high and healing air he had seen 
the color slowly come back to his 
wife’s pale cheeks ; and as for the 
child, until the great snows came 
and cut her off from this novel and 
interesting world, she had been ab¬ 
sorbingly happy in the fellowship 
of the wilderness. 

When Dave re-entered the cabin 
he found the table set over by the 
window, and his wife beating up 
the batter for the buckwheat pan¬ 
cakes that she was about to griddle 
for breakfast. Lidey, still in her 
little blue-flannel nightgown, but 
with beaded deerskin moccasins on 
her tiny feet, and the golden wil¬ 
fulness of her hair tied back de¬ 
murely with a blue ribbon, was 
seated at one end of the table, her 
[26] 





She was inditing an epistle to “Sandy Claus 














IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


eager face half buried in a sheet of 
paper. She was laboriously indit¬ 
ing, for perhaps the twentieth time, 
an epistle to “ Sandy Claus,” tell¬ 
ing him what she hoped he would 
bring her. 

If anything had been needed to 
confirm Dave Patton in his resolve, 
it was this. From the rapt child 
his eyes turned and met his wife's 
inquiring glance. 

‘ ‘ I reckon I ’ve got to go, Mary! ” 
he said quietly. “ Think you two 
kin git along all right fer four or 
five days? We ain’t likely to have 
no more snow this moon.” 

The woman let a little sigh escape 
her, but the look she gave her hus¬ 
band was one of cheerful acquies¬ 
cence. 

‘ ‘ I guess you ’re right, dear 1 

[27] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

C3C?0G3G00Q000Q000GO000«3000GeX300G0000G0GQ00e30GO 

I ’ll have to let you go, though five 
days seems an awful long time 
to be alone here. I ’ve been 
thinkin’ it over,” she continued, 
guarding her words so that Lidey 
should not understand—“an’ I 
just could n’t bear to see it, Dave 1 ” 

‘ ‘ That’s so ! ” assented the man. 
“ I ’ll leave heaps o’ wood an’ kin¬ 
dlin’ cut, an’ you ’ll jest have to milk 
an’ look after the beasts, dear. 
Long’s you ’re not scairt to be alone, 
it’s all right, I reckon ! ” 

‘ ‘ When ’ll you start ? ” asked the 
wife, turning to pour the batter 
in little, sputtering gray-white cir¬ 
cles on to the hot greased griddle. 

“First thing to-morrow morn- 
in’ ! ” answered Dave, seating him¬ 
self at the table as the appetizing 
smell of the browning pancakes 
[28] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

CO^>30000GCO3Q0a0G0e€;<£S>3C-0C^:X>3GeO>3O00CX330GGGQ 

filled the room. “Snow’s jest 
right for snowshoein’, an’ I’ll git 
back easy Christmas eve.” 

‘ ‘ You sure won’t be late, pop- 
sie?” interrupted the child, look¬ 
ing up with apprehension in her 
round eyes. ‘ ‘ I jest wouldn’t care 
one mite for Sandy Glaus if you 
weren’t here too ! ” 

“ Mehbe I’ll git him to give me 
a lift in his little sleigh ! Anyways, 
I’ll be back I ” laughed Dave gaily. 


















II 


After Dave had gone, setting 
out at daybreak on his moose-hide 
snow-shoes, which crunched mu¬ 
sically on the hard snow, things 
went very well for a while at the 
lonely clearing. It was not so 
lonely, either, during the bright 
hours about midday, when the sun¬ 
shine managed to accumulate some¬ 
thing almost like warmth in the 
sheltered yard. About noon the 
two red-and-white cows and 
the yoke of wide-horned red oxen 
would stand basking in front of 
the lean-to, near the well, con¬ 
tentedly chewing their cuds. At 
this time the hens, too, yellow 
3 [ 33 ] 


IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

G0C30Q00e30G>eeX30OGGt>3G00000GC5OO3000000000G00GG0 

and black and speckled, would 
come out and scratch in the lit¬ 
ter, perennially undiscouraged by 
the fact that the only thing they 
found beneath it was the snow. 
The vivid crossbills, red and black 
and white, would come to the yard 
in flocks, and the quaker-colored 
snow buntings, and the big, trustful, 
childlike, pine grosbeaks, with the 
glowing stain of rose-purple over 
their heads and necks. These kept 
Lidey interested, helping to pass 
the days that now, to her excited 
anticipations, seemed so long. Per¬ 
haps half a dozen times a day she 
would print a difficult communica¬ 
tion to Santa Glaus with some new 
idea, some new suggestion. These 
missives were mailed to the good 
Saint of Children by the swift me- 
[34] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


dium of the roaring kitchen fire; 
and as the draft whisked their 
scorching fragments upward, Lidey 
was satisfied that they went straight 
to their destination. The child’s 
joy in her anticipations was now 
the more complete, because, since 
her father’s departure, her mother 
had ceased to discourage her hopes. 

On the day before Christmas eve, 
however, the mother felt symptoms 
of a return of her old sickness. Im¬ 
mediately she grew anxious, real¬ 
izing how necessary it was that she 
should keep well. This nervous 
apprehension hastened the result 
that she most dreaded. Her pain 
and her weakness grew worse hour 
by hour. Mastered by her memo¬ 
ries of what she had been through 
before, she was in no mood to 
[35] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


throw off the attack. That even¬ 
ing, crawling to the barn with 
difficulty, she amazed the horse 
and the cattle by coaxing them to 
drink again, then piled their man¬ 
gers with a two days’ store of hay, 
and scattered buckwheat recklessly 
for the hens. The next morning 
she could barely drag herself out 
of bed to light the fire : and Lidey 
had to make her breakfast—which 
she did contentedly enough — on 
bread and butter and unlimited 
molasses. 

It was a weary day for the little 
one, in spite of her responsibilities. 
Muffied up and mittened, she was 
able, under her mother’s directions, 
to carry a little water to the stock 
in a small tin kettle, making many 
journeys. And she was able to 
[36] 




Coaxing the horse to drink again 




IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


keep the fire going. But the hours 
crept slowly, and she was so con¬ 
sumed with impatience that all her 
usual amusements lost their savor. 
Not even the rare delight of being 
allowed to cut pictures out of some 
old illustrated papers could divert 
her mind from its dazzling an¬ 
ticipations. But before Christmas 
could come, must come her father ; 
and from noon onward she would 
keep running to the door every few 
minutes to peer expectantly down the 
trail. She was certain that, at the 
worst, he could not by any possi¬ 
bility be delayed beyond supper¬ 
time, for he was needed to get 
supper—or rather, as Lidey ex¬ 
pressed it, to help her get supper 
for mother ! Lidey was not hungry, 
to be sure, but she was getting 

[37j 




IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

GOOOOOa3eeX3t300e3C3GQeX30QG£>3000&3GGOeOOOGOOGOQGO 

mortally tired of unmitigated bread 
and butter and molasses. 

Supper-time, however, came and 
went, and no sign of Dave’s re¬ 
turn. On the verge of tears, Lidey 
munched a little of the now dis¬ 
tasteful food. Her mother, worn 
out with the pain, which had at 
last relaxed its grip, fell into a heavy 
sleep. There was no light in the 
cabin except the red glow from 
the open draft of the stove and the 


intense blue-white moonlight 
streaming in through the front win¬ 
dow. The child’s impatience be¬ 
came intolerable. 

Flinging open the door for the 
hundredth time, she gazed out 
eagerly across the moonlit snow 
and down the trail. The cloudless 
moon, floating directly above it, 
[ 38 ] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

GGGG300C3OL>30LG003OC3tK3QQ0OC30Q00OG00-3c3iGO-300aQC3C-O 

transfigured that narrow and 
lonely road into a path to wonder¬ 
land. In the mystic radiance — 
blue-white but shot with faint, half- 
imagined flashes of emerald and 
violet — Lidey could see no lone¬ 
liness whatever. The monstrous 
solitude became to her eyes a gar¬ 
den of silver and crystal. As she 
gazed, it lured her irresistibly. 

With a sudden resolve she noise¬ 
lessly closed the door, lit the lamp, 
and began to put on her wraps, 
stealing about on tiptoe that she 
might not awaken her mother. She 
was quite positive that, by this time, 
her father must be almost home. 
As her little brain dwelt upon this 
idea, she presently brought herself 
to see him striding swiftly along in 
the moonlight just beyond the turn 

[ 39 ] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


of the trail. If she hurried, she 
could meet him before he came out 
upon the clearing. The thought 
possessed her. Stealing a cautious 
glance at her mother’s face to be 
sure her sleep was sound, she slipped 
out into the shine. A moment more 
and her tiny figure, hooded and 
muffled and mittened, was danc¬ 
ing on moccasined feet across the 
snow. 

At the entrance to the trail, 
Lidey felt the first qualm of mis¬ 
giving. The path of light, to be 
sure, with all its fairy-book en¬ 
ticement, lay straight before her. 
But the solemn woods, on either 
side of the path, were filled with 
great shadows and a terrible still¬ 
ness. At this point Lidey had half 
a mind to turn back. But she was 
[4o] 




IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

C300000000000eX30000£?OOe300000000GGG€3QC3QOGQGOOOO 

already a young person of positive 
ideas, not lightly to be swerved from 
a purpose; and her too vivid im¬ 
agination still persisted in show¬ 
ing her that picture of her father, 
speeding toward her just beyond 
the turn of the trail. She even 
thought that she could hear his 
steps upon the daunting stillness. 
With her heart quivering, yet up¬ 
lifted by an exaltation of hope, she 
ran on, not daring to glance again 
into the woods. To sustain her 
courage she kept thinking of the 
look of gay astonishment that would 
flash into her father’s face as he 
met her running toward him — 
just around the turn of the trail! 

The turn was nearly a quarter 
of a mile distant, but the child 
reached it at last. With a little cry 
[4i] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

00GGGGe3GGeX3O£3QOOOO000QQC3€30e€3e33Q00Gi0e3O-30000QO0 

of confident relief she rushed for¬ 
ward. The long trail — now half 
in shadow from the slight change 
in its direction — stretched out 
empty before her. In the excess 
of her disappointment she burst 
into tears, and sat down on the 
snow irresolutely. 

Her first Impulse—after she had 
cried for a minute, and wiped her 
eyes with the little mittens, which 
promptly stiffened in the stinging 
frost—was to face about and run 
for home as fast as she could. But 
when she turned and glanced be¬ 
hind her, the backward path ap¬ 
peared quite different. When she 
no longer faced the moonlight, the 
world took on an unfriendly, sin¬ 
ister look. There were unknown 
terrors all along that implacable 
[ 42 ] 




IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

0t'^30fX>303C>30G00OC:C<:x;<:<X3GO:>3CH500G^ 

blue-white way through the dread 
blackness of the woods. Sobbing 
with desolation, she turned again 
toward the moon. Ahead, for all 
her fears, the trail still held some¬ 
thing of the glamour and the dazzle. 
Ahead, too, as she reminded herself, 
was surely her father, hastening to 
meet her, only not quite so near as she 
had imagined. Summoning back 
her courage, and comforting her 
lonely spirit with thoughts of what 
Santa Claus was going to bring her, 
she picked herself up and continued 
her journey at a hurried little walk. 

She had not gone more than a 
few steps when a strange, high 
sound, from somewhere far behind 
her, sent her heart into her throat 
and quickened her pace to a run. 

Again came that high, long- 

[43] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

000eX30G0QG0C^O00CKX3C»G£3O^C3G0O30GGGOa<G0GGC»00 

drawn, quavering sound ; and the 
child’s heart almost stopped beat¬ 
ing. If only she could see her 
father coming! She had never 
heard any sound just like that ; it 
was not savage, nor very loud, but 
somehow it seemed to carry a kind 
of horror on its floating cadence. 
It reminded her, very faintly, of 
the howling of some dogs that she 
had heard in the Settlement. She 
was not afraid of dogs. But she 
knew there were no dogs in the 
forest. 

Just as she was beginning to lose 
her breath and slacken her pace, 
that terrible cry came wavering 
again through the trees, much 
louder now and nearer. It lent 
new strength to her tired little feet, 
and she fled on faster than ever, 

[ 44 ] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

C30O000GO0Oe3G€30£300C3G0e3O£X3Q00e30O00O00O£3C300G0£3eO 

her red lips open and her eyes 
wide. Another slight turn of the 
trail, and it ran once more directly 
toward the moon, stretching on and 
on till it narrowed from sight. And 
nowhere in the shining track was 
Dave to be seen. Lldey had now, 
however, but one thought in her 
quivering brain, and that was to 
keep running and get to her father 
before those dreadful voices could 
overtake her. She knew they were 
coming up swiftly. They sounded 
terribly near. When she had gone 
about two hundred yards beyond 
the last bend of the trail, she no¬ 
ticed, a few steps ahead of her, a 
tiny clearing, and at its farther edge 
the gable of a little hut rising a 
couple of feet above the snow. She 
knew the place. She had played 
[45] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

C3O00OGeK3C300CGi000QQ0GG0Ge>3OO rO0C30£3e3C»D00GGC30C30 

in it that summer, while Dave was 
cutting the coarse haj on the clear¬ 
ing. It was a place that had been 
occupied bj lonely trappers and 
lumber prospectors. Being a work 
of men’s hands it gave the child a 
momentary sense of comfort, of 
companionship in the dreadful wild. 
She paused, uncertain whether to 
continue along the trail or to seek 
the shelter of the empty hut. 

When the crunching of her own 
little footsteps stopped, however, 
she was instantly aware of the 
padding of other feet behind her. 
Looking back, she saw a pack of 
gray beasts just coming around the 
turn. They were something like 
dogs. But Lidey knew they were 
not dogs. She had seen pictures 
of them — awful pictures. She had 
[46] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

OOOGOOOGOe300GOOe^3000QOOOGGO£>30e:Xi03^30GOOOOO-30 

read stories of them which had 
frozen her blood as she read. Now 
her very bones seemed to melt 
within her. They were wolves. 
For a moment her throat could 
form no sound. Then, “ Father !” 
she screamed despairingly, and 
rushed for the hut. 

As she reached it the wolves 
were hardly a dozen paces behind. 
The door stood half open, but 
drifted full of snow to within little 
more than a foot of the top. Into 
the low opening the child dived 
head first, like a rabbit, crept be¬ 
hind the door, and fell upon the 
snow, gasping, too horror-stricken 
to make any outcry. 

A step from the hut door the 
wolves halted abruptly. The half- 
buried hut, and the dark hole lead- 

[4?] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


inginto it—these were things they 
did not understand, except that they 
recognized them as belonging to 
man. Anything belonging to man 
was dangerous. In that dark hole 
they suspected a trap. The leader 
went up to it, and almost poked 
his nose into it, sniffing. But he 
backed away sharply, as if he had 
met with a blow on the snout, and 
his nostrils wrinkled in savage en¬ 
mity. The man smell was strong 
in the hut. It seemed very like a 
trap. 

Lying flat on her stomach behind 
the door, Lidey stared out through 
the narrow crack with eyes that 
seemed starting from her head. 
Out there in the clear glitter of the 
moonlight she saw the wolves go 
prowling savagely to and fro, and 
[ 48 ] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


heard their steps as they cautiously 
circled the hut, seeking another en¬ 
trance. They kept about five or 
six feet distant from it at first, so 
suspicious w^ere they of that man 
smell that had greeted the leader’s 
first attempt at Investigation. When 
they had prowled about the hut for 
several minutes, they all sat down 
on their haunches before the door, 
and seemed to deliberate. The 
child felt their dreadful eyes pierc¬ 
ing her through and through, as 
they searched her out through 
the crack and penetrated her vain 
hiding. 

Suddenly, while the eyes of all 
the pack were flaming upon her, 
she saw the leader come swiftly for¬ 
ward and thrust his fierce snout 
right against the crack of the door. 

^ [ 49 ] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

GGGGGGGOGQGeOGQeK3QOOOQOeOOOOOO-300C»OOGOOOOOOO 

In a sort of madness she struck at 
it with her little mittened hand. 
The wolf, apparently still discon¬ 
certed by the man smell that greeted 
his nostrils, sprang back warily. 
Then the whole pack drew a foot 
or two closer to the open doorway. 
Ravenous though they were, they 
were not yet assured that the hut 
was not a trap. They were not yet 
quite ready to crawl in and secure 
their prey. But, gradually, they 
were edging nearer. A few mo¬ 
ments more and the leader, no less 
crafty than savage, would creep in. 
Already he had accustomed himself 
to the menace of that scent. Now 
he did creep in, as far as the mid¬ 
dle of his body, investigating. His 
red jaws and long white teeth ap¬ 
peared around the edge of the door. 
[5o] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

GOGOGGGQOOOOQ£3QOG£3QGQGGG€3GGQGC3GOO€30000QGOOOGO 

At the sight Lidey’s voice returned 
to her. Shrinking back against 
the farthest wall, she gave shriek 
after shriek that seemed to tear the 
dreadful stillness. In the madness 
of her terror she hardly noticed 
that the wolfs head was suddenly 
withdrawn. 


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W HEN Dave Patton set out for 
the Settlement he found the snow- 
shoeing so good, the biting air so 
bracing, and his own heart so light 
with hope and health, that he was 
able to make the journey in some¬ 
thing less than a day and a half. 
Out of this time he had allowed 
himself four hours for sleep, in an 
old lumber camp beside the trail. 
At the Settlement, which boasted 
several miscellaneous stores where 
anything from a baby’s rattle to a 
bag of fertilizer or a bedroom suite 
could be purchased, he had no 
difficulty in gathering such gay- 
colored trifles, together with more 
[55] 


IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


lasting gifts, as he thought would 
meet Lidej’s anticipations. When 
he went to see his wife’s people, 
he found that all had something to 
add to his Santa Claus pack, for 
Mary as Avell as for the little one ; 
and he hugged himself with elation 
at the thought of what a Christmas 
there was going to be in the lonely 
wilderness cabin. He had bought 
two or three things for his wife ; 
and when he shouldered his pack, 
slinging it high and strapping it 
close that it might not flop with his 
rapid stride, he found the burden 
no light one. But the lightness of 
his heart made compensation. 

That night he took but two hours’ 
sleep in the old lumber camp, aim¬ 
ing to reach home soon after noon. 
In the morning, however, things 
[56] 




Ii*^nina7lFlTl< 

19 0 6 

At the Settlement where anything from a l)ahy's rattle 
to a hag of fertilizer could he purchased 




IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


began to go wrong. First the pack, 
as packs sometimes will for no vis¬ 
ible reason, developed a kink that 
galled his shoulders obstinately. 
Again and again he paused, and 
tried to readjust it. But in vain. 
Finally, he had to stop, undo the 
bundle, and rearrange every article 
in it, before he could induce it to 
‘ ‘ carry smoothly. 

Half an hour later, as he turned 
a step off the trail to get a drink at 
a bubbling spring that kept open 
all through the bitterest winter, he 
caught his snow-shoe on a buried 
branch, and fell forward, breaking 
the frame. In his angry impa¬ 
tience he attempted no more than 
a temporary repair of the damage, 
such as he thought might see him 
to the end of his journey. But the 




IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


poor makeshift broke down before 
he had gone a mile. There was 
nothing for him to do but stop long 
enough to make a good job of it, 
which he did by chopping out a 
piece of ash, whittling down a 
couple of thin but tough strips, 
and splicing the break securely with 
the strong “salmon twine'’ that 
he always carried. Even so, he 
realized that to avoid further delay 
he would have to go cautiously, 
and humor the mend. And soon 
he had to acknowledge to himself 
that it would be long after supper¬ 
time, long after Lidey’s bedtime, 
before he could get home. 

As the moon rose, he was ac¬ 
companied by his shadow, a gigan¬ 
tic and grotesque figure that danced 
fantastically along the snow before 
[58] 




IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


him. As the moon climbed the 
icy heaven, the shadow shortened, 
and acquired more sobriety of de¬ 
meanor. Plodding doggedly on¬ 
ward, too tired to think, Dave 
amused himself with the antics of 
the shadow, which seemed respon¬ 
sible for a portion of the crisp mu¬ 
sic that came from his snow-shoes. 

From this careless reverie Dave 
was suddenly aroused by a ghost 
of sound that drifted toward him 
through the trees. It was a long, 
wailing cry, which somehow stirred 
the roots of his hair. He did not 
recognize it. But he felt that it 
was nothing human. It came from 
somewhere between himself and 
home, however; and he instinctively 
quickened his steps, thinking with 
satisfaction of the snug and well- 

[59] 




IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


warmed cabin that sheltered his 
dear ones. 

Presently the long cry sounded 
again, nearer and clearer now, and 
tremulous. Dave had heard wolves 
before, in Labrador and in the 
West. Had he not been quite sure 
that wolves were unknown in this 
part of the country, he would have 
sworn that the sound was the hunt¬ 
ing cry of a wolf-pack. But the 
idea was impossible. He had no 
sooner made up his mind to this, 
however, than the cry was repeated 
once more. Thereupon Dave re¬ 
luctantly changed his mind. That 
the sound meant wolves was not 
only possible, but certain. It filled 
him with resentment to think that 
those ravening marauders had come 
into the country. 

[6o] 




IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


It was soon manifest to Dave’s 
initiated ears that the wolves were 
coming directly toward him. But 
he gathered, too, that they were in 
pursuit of some quarry. Dave had 
the Eastern woodsman’s contempt 
for wolves, unless in a very large 
pack; and he soon decided that this 
pack was a small one. He did not 
think that it would dare to face him. 
Nevertheless, he recognized the re¬ 
mote possibility of their being so 
hungry as to forget their dread of 
man. That in such case his axe 
would be an all-sufficient defence 
he did not doubt. But he was in 
a fierce hurry to get home. He did 
not want to be stopped and forced 
into any fight. For a moment he 
thought of turning off through the 
woods, and giving these night for- 

[6i] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


agers a wide berth. Then he 
remembered his uncertain snow- 
shoes. The snow would be very 
soft off the trail, and there would 
be the chance of breaking the shoe 
again. Who was he, to be turned 
out of his path by a bunch of wild 
curs? It was the snow-shoe that 
settled it. He set his jaws grimly, 
unslung his axe, and pressed for¬ 
ward. The clamor of the pack 
was now so near and loud that it 
quite drowned one single piercing 
cry of “Father” that would other¬ 
wise have reached his ears. There 
was a new note in the howling, too, 
which Dave’s ear interpreted as 
meaning that the quarry was in 
sight. Then the noise stopped ab¬ 
ruptly save for an impatient yelp or 
two. 




IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


‘ ‘ Whatever it be they ’re after, 
it’s took to cover,” said Dave to 
himself. “An’ in the old shanty, 
too! ” he added, as he saw the little 
patch of clearing open before him. 

Realizing that the wolves had 
something to occupy fully their at¬ 
tention, he now crept noiselessly 
forward just within the edge of the 
wood. Peering forth from behind 
the cover of a drooping hemlock 
branch, he saw the roof of the 
hut, the half-open doorway nearly 
choked with snow, and the wolves 
prowling and sniffing around it, 
but keeping a couple of yards 
away. 

“ Scairt of a trap! ” he thought 
to himself, with a grin; and cursed 
his luck that he had not his rifle 
with him. 


[ 63 ] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

e3C30C3GQOOGOGQGGOOGC3eGQGC30GGGOeX30GOe30QC3GOGGOQGO 

‘ ‘ A couple o’ them thick gray 
pelts,” he thought—“ what a coat 
they’d make for the little one ! ” 

There were six wolves, and big 
ones—enough to make things look 
pretty ugly for one man with only 
an axe. Dave was glad they had 
something to keep them from turn¬ 
ing their attention to him. He 
watched them for a few moments, 
then decided to go around by the 
other side of the clearing and avoid 
trouble. 

He drew back as silently as a 
lynx. Where the Avoods overhead 
were thick, the snow was soft, with 
no crispness on the surface; and 
instead of the crunching that his 
steps made on the trail, here the 
snow made no sound under his feet 
but a sort of thick sigh. 




IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


Dave had taken several paces in 
retreat, when an idea flashed up 
that arrested him. Why were the 
wolves so wary about entering the 
hut, when their quarry was cer¬ 
tainly inside ^ Their dread of a 
trap was not, of itself, quite enough 
to explain their caution. The 
thought gave him a qualm of un¬ 
easiness. He would return, and 
have another look at them! Then 
his impatience got the better of him. 
Mary and the little one were wait¬ 
ing and watching for him at home. 
He retreated another pace or two. 
What should he be doing, wasting 
his time over a parcel of wolves 
that had got a fox cornered in the 
old shanty ? Dave felt sure it was 
a fox. But no I He could not 
escape the conviction — much as he 
5 [ ] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

G00GG00000C3G-3000O000Ge30OC»QOGOCXX3O00€X30C300Q00 

wished to — that if the fugitive were 
a fox, or any other animal of the 
Northeastern woods, it would not 
take six hungry wolves much more 
than six seconds to get over their 
suspicions and go in after him. 
What if it should be some half- 
starved old Indian, working his way 
in to the Settlement after bad luck 
with his hunting and his trapping? 
Whoever it was, he had no gun, 
or there would have been shooting 
before this. Dave saw that he must 
go back and look into the matter. 
But he was angry at this new delay. 
Cursing the wolves, and the Indian 
who didn’t know enough to take 
care of himself, Dave stole back 
to his covert behind the hemlock 
branch, and peered forth once more, 
no longer interested, but aggrieved. 
[ 66 ] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


The wolves were now sitting on 
their haunches around the hut door. 
Their unusual behavior convinced 
him that there was a man inside. 
Well, there was no getting around 
the fact that he was in for a fight. 
He only hoped that the chap inside 
was some good, and would have 
‘ ‘ somethin’ to say fer himself, darn 
him ! ’ ’ Dave gently lowered the 
bundle from his back, and threw 
off his thick coat to allow his arms 
freer play. 

It was at this moment that the 
leader of the pack made up his mind 
to crawl into the hut. 

As the wolfs head entered the 
low opening, Dave gripped his axe, 
thrust aside the hemlock branch, 
and silently darted forth Into the 
clearing. He did not shout, for 

[67] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


he wanted to take his enemies, as 
far as possible, unawares. He had 
hut a score of yards to go. So in¬ 
tent were they upon their leader’s 
movements that Dave was almost 
upon them ere they heeded the 
sound of his coming. Then they 
looked around. Three shrank back, 
startled at the tall and threatening 
shape. But two sprang at his 
throat, with snapping jaws. The 
first met the full sweep of his axe in 
the chest, and dropped in a heap. 
The second dodged a short blow, 
and warily drew back again. Then 
— from within the darkness of the 
hut came those screams of the mad¬ 
ness of terror. 

For one beat Dave’s heart stopped. 
He knew the voice. 

The big wolf was just backing 

[ 68 ] 




IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


out. He turned, jerking himself 
around like a loosed spring, as he 
saw Dave towering over him. But 
he was not in time. The axe de¬ 
scended, sheering his haunches 
across, and he stretched out, work¬ 
ing his great jaws convulsively. 
Dave saw that the jaws had no 
blood upon them, and his own 
blood returned to his heart. He 
had come in time. The screams 
within the hut died into piteous 
sobs. 

Across Dave’s mind flamed a 
vision of the agony of horror that 
Lidey had been suffering since first 
those bowlings fell upon his ears. 
His heart-break transformed itself 
into a mad rage of vengeance. As 
he turned, with a hoarse shout, 
upon the rest of the pack, he felt 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


a hot breath on his neck, and hare 
fangs snapped savagely within an 
inch of his throat. His assailant 
sprang back in time to escape the 
deadly sweep of the axe, but at the 
same instant the other three were 
leaping in. One of these caught a 
glancing blow, which drove him 
off, snarling. But the other two 
were so close that there was no 
time for Dave to recover. Instinc¬ 
tively he jabbed a short back-stroke 
with the end of the axe-handle, and 
caught one of his assailants in the 
belly. Sickened, and daunted by 
this unexpected form of reprisal, 
the brute hunched itself with a star¬ 
tled yelp and ran off with its tail 
between its legs. At the same mo¬ 
ment, dropping the axe, Dave caught 
the other wolf fairly by the throat. 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

DQQQQOGOOOOGOCK3C30GGQGeK300000000GOie30C:GOGQQOGC3 

The gripping hand was a kind of 
weapon that the heast had never 
learned to guard against, and it 
was taken at a disadvantage. With 
a grunt of fury and of effort Dave 
closed his grip inexorably, braced 
himself, and swung the heavy brute 
off its feet. Whirling it clear around 
his head, he let go. The animal flew 
sprawling and twisting through the 
air, and came down on its back ten 
feet away. When it landed, there 
was no more fight left in it. Be¬ 
fore Dave could reach it with his 
axe it was up and away in a panic 
after its two remaining fellows. 

Breathing heavily from his effort 
and from the storm of emotion still 
surging in his breast, Dave turned 
to the hut door, and called: 

‘ ‘ Lidey! Lidey I Are you there 

[71J 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


“Popsie! Oh, popsie dear! I 
thought jouwere n’tgoin’ tocome! 
cried a quivering little voice. And 
the child crept out into the moon- 
light. 

‘ ‘ Oh, popsie, ” she sobbed, hiding 
her eyes in his neck as he crushed 
her to his heart, “ they were goin* 
to eat me up, an* I thought you 
would n’t come I ” 


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With the bundle on his back 
and Lidey in his arms, Dave strode 
homeward, his weariness forgotten. 
His first anxiety about his wife was 
somewhat eased when he learned 
that Lidey had left her asleep ; for 
he remembered that a heavy sleep 
always marked the end of one of 
her attacks. He only hoped that 
the sleep would hold her until they 
got home, for his heart sank at the 
thought of her terror if she should 
wake and find Lidey gone. As 
they came out on the edge of the 
clearing, and saw that all was quiet 
in the cabin, Dave said: 

[75] 


IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


“We won’t tell mother nothin' 
about the wolves to-night, sweetie, 
eh? It Id jest git her all worked 
up, an’ she couldn’t stand it when 
she’s sick. We won’t say nothin’ 
about that till to-morrow ! ” 

“Yes,’’murmuredLidey, “she'd 
be awful scairt! ” 

They were just about half-way 
up the slope when from the cabin 
came a frightened cry of ‘ ‘ Lidey I 
Lidey 1 ” The door was flung open, 
the lamplight streamed out in futile 
contest with the moonlight, and 
Mrs. Patton appeared. Her face 
was white with fear. As she saw 
Dave and the little one hurrying 
toward her, both hands went to her 
heart in the extremity of her relief, 
and she sank back into a chair be¬ 
fore the door. 

[ 76 ] 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 


Dave kicked off his snow-shoes 
with a dexterous twist, stepped in¬ 
side, slammed the door, and with 
a laugh and a kiss deposited Lidey 
in her mother’s lap. 

‘ ‘ She jest run down to meet 
me!”-explained Dave truthfully, 
but deceptively. 

“ Oh, girlie, how you frightened 
me I” cried the woman, divided be¬ 
tween tears and smiles. “I woke 
up, Dave, an’ found her gone, an* 
bein’ kind o’ bewildered I couldn’t 
understand it I ” 

She clung to his hand, while he 
looked tenderly down into her face. 

“Poor little woman,” he mur¬ 
mured, “you’ve had a bad turn 
ag in, Lidey tells me. Better now, 
eh? ” 

“ I’m plumb all right ag’in, Dave, 

\n\ 



IN THE DEEP OF THE SNOW 

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now you’re back,” she answered, 
squeezing his hand hard. “But 
land’s sakes, Dave, how ever did 
you git all that blood on your 
pants ? ” 

“Oh,” said the man lightly, 
“that’s nothin’. Tell you about 
it bime-by. I m jest starvin’ now. 
Let’s have supper quick, and then 
give old Mr. Sandy Claus a chance. 
To-morrow we’re goin’ to have the 
greatest Christmas ever was, us 
three 1 ” 


The University Press, Cambridge, U. S. A.. 















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